


Men Are Good for One Thing, While Women Are Good for Six

by TurboNerd



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 10:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5925208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurboNerd/pseuds/TurboNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A gift for @sabubu91 for the tumblr @satinaliagiftexchange!<br/>Isabela and Bethany sexy times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men Are Good for One Thing, While Women Are Good for Six

Long, delicate fingers comb nervously through dark, wavy tresses. Maker’s breath, she was nervous. For a lot of reasons. For one… _she_ seemed too perfect. Her tawny skin and full, luscious figure, those long legs, that very full bust that always seemed to catch her gaze.

She blushed a deep pink as she entered the Hanged Man, her eyes somehow locating them first before anything else. Forcing her eyes upward to behold a set of lovely, deep-amber, smiling eyes. Bethany fought the urge to cover her mouth in shock at her own behavior… _gawking like a chantry boy!_ She inwardly chided herself.

Isabela did not seem to mind. In fact, she rather enjoyed it. Thrived off of it, even.

Bethany had considered… just maybe… if she made an advance on the pirate, perhaps… maybe things would go somewhere? Bethany practiced overworked dialogue in her head, frustrating herself and rendering her useless.

She hadn’t realized how very little it takes to catch Isabela’s attention, and that she already had. With an inviting smile, she beckoned her over, and like a sailor to a siren she had no desire to resist. _Please don’t let my palms get sweaty…_ she smiled and tried to look relaxed, tried to match Isabella’s apparent comfort.

“Can I get you a drink, sweetness?” she offered, her voice smooth as honey, sending a shiver down the back of her neck.

“No, thank you, I…” she swallowed thickly, smiled sweetly, wanted so much to just relax and be with this beautiful pirate. “Yes, I will have what you’re having.”

“Good, it will help you relax.” She spoke playfully, ordering her an ale. “What brings you here?” she asked knowingly.

“Oh…” Bethany took a sip of bitter ale, “Well, I lost my sister-“

“Feeling lost, are you?” Isabela smiled and licked her lips and stepped a little closer, leaning against the bar.

“No! Oh Maker, no… just… it seems I can’t get rid of her, these days.” She chuckled, Isabela guffawed and took a deep draw of the drink in front of her.

“Trying to get me alone?” she smirked, her words drawing Bethany’s eyes from her bosom once again. 

“Well… we’re hardly alone.” she spoke nervously, evading the question and tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Regrettable, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” she agreed a little too impulsively. She hid her warm face behind a long swing of ale.

When she looked up from her ale, she was met with the same kind, playful stare. That patient look… and relaxed. Always relaxed. _Maker, how is she always so relaxed?_

“What are you thinking?” Isabela purred, and Bethany’s heart quickened at how suddenly the space felt so intimate… people had to be staring. _People are staring, aren’t they?_ She fought the urge to check.

“I was wondering how you always seem so relaxed.” she had to admit to herself that she felt more relaxed than she had earlier, but she attributed most of that to the ale- and the calming presence of the beautiful pirate queen.

“Confidence.” she shrugged. “I understand people, I trust my judgments.” She added suggestively, “I know what people want.”

“It- it must be very intimidating, for others to feel so transparent around you-” she stammered, feeling intimidated, blushing furiously, wondering how much Isabela really saw through her.

She wondered if Isabela knew how the memory of that drunken kiss still tingled on her lips, sent ripples of sensation to her core, made her breath hitch and her body crave so much more. How she gets so lost in the memory of it; a firm hand on her breast, a gentle bite on her lower lip- had Isabela any idea at all what she had done to her? More importantly, would she do it again?

“Oh, it can be, sweet thing.” Isabela interrupted her thoughts with a tone and inflection that could only be described as sultry. “Would you like to go somewhere more quiet?”

“I would.” she answered, feeling suddenly emboldened, following Isabela up to her room with ale in hand.

Sitting on Isabela’s bed she made quick work of the last of her ale and placed the mug on a nearby table. Feeling gentle movement next to her on the bed she turned toward her, met by soft, cool lips on hers. It felt surprisingly easy to surrender to as her hands practically raised themselves to the soft skin of her bosom.

Soft sighs and gentle moans escaped her, and she wondered how a woman could ever feel so perfect against her skin as calloused fingers climbed her thighs.

This strong woman, this rogue pirate, had the capacity for so much sensuality it brought a lightness to her heart that she had never felt before. Somehow she had a sense that this was for her… the gentle touches, skilled hands touching her in places she had never felt right sharing with another.

As she felt article after article of clothing slip away from them she dared to look at the perfect woman above her, and their eyes met. Isabela’s sweetness and femininity, a side she hadn’t really seen so clearly before set her blood aflame and she moaned her name, drawing her closer , bare breasts gently brushing against her own as their lips met again for another breath-taking kiss.

Skilled fingers brushed against and into her heat making her arch her back and practically beg for more as her fingers dug gently into the smooth flesh of Isabela’s shoulder. As Isabela’s smirking mouth disappeared between her legs, she looked down to see dark, lusty eyes as her tongue parted her flesh eagerly, teasing her and making her gasp and shudder, hips writhing, seeking more pressure as strong hands held her still. It didn’t take long until she was arching her back, crushing poor Isabela’s head with her thighs and covering her own mouth to drown out the cries from the orgasm that took her.

Minutes later when she calmed down from her body’s shuddering response to the intensity of her orgasm, she felt the warm skin of her lover pressed against her.

“My turn.” Bethany whispered, kissing her again, feeling the heat gather in her loins as she detected the subtle scent of herself on the pirate queen’s skilled mouth.

“I am at your whim, sweetness.” she stretched languidly, displaying her impressive curves and nearly flawless, tawny skin. “The night is young.”

For so long she had been dreaming of this woman’s body; the way she oozed sexuality and… just the way she existed. To finally have her, to be kissing those perfect breasts, gripping her perfect thighs, feeling the heat of her core so close to her wanting mouth… it was all… perfection.

She ran her hands along that tawny skin, expressing pent up desire, worshiping her, indulging in all the ways she had imagined she would never get the chance to… as if she may never have the chance again.

“Sweetness… more…” she was so available, so open to her and it fanned the flames of an already roaring fire within her.

“So perfect.” was all she could say as she indulged in her first taste of the goddesses essence. “So perfect.” she whispered again as she ran her tongue along silken folds. Looking up from between creamy thighs, she saw her unabashedly teasing her own nipples, her head tilted back, eyes closed, moaning without restraint. Again, it occurred to her, so _perfect._

The telltale signs of completion were there, and although she wanted it to last forever, she gave her what her body writhed for. Hands met the back of her head, moans of her name echoed through the room like music to her ears and peripherally she could see beautiful Isabela’s toes curl.

Curling up next to her pirate she smiled at her shyly, unsure of what to say, or if she should say something at all. Squealing with surprise as the woman sat up on her knees and easily manipulated her onto her back she hovered above her, straddling her thigh and soaking her with her sex she spoke again,

“The night is young.”


End file.
